


Fractured

by orphan_account



Category: Cartoon Network Universe: FusionFall
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Gen, I have no idea if this makes sense, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reprecussions, Scars, What Was I Thinking?, What-If, le shrug, random plot bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Her mind was in fractures. There were cracks, black as obsidian, crawling up her arms and part of her face, forever scarring her. And it was all because of that one scythe she decided to hold in her grasp. Who knew that such a thing could forever change a person? For better or worse; no one would know. Not even the Grim Reaper.





	Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> WELP, this is a random plot bunny if I ever saw one. I dunno what brought this one on, but I thought it'd be interesting to show a "what-if" story I thought of. And this is one is more or less just "What if Mandy grabbed the scythe to take matters into her own hands and it corrupted her in the process?" Basically that. I dunno if this will be continued or not, but feel free to comment if you like to!~

Her mind was in fractures. Each of them was separated in the deepest, darkest corners of her head. They were muddled, blurry, and filled with memories that are forever embedded in her mind. They were filled to the brim with bloodshed, green extraterrestrial matter, and screams. Screams that were either created by the overlord of Fuse… or _her._

She recalled it all in one swoop. Her slender, clammy fingers were wrapped right under her vicious grasp of the scythe she was holding. Its sharp, flesh-tearing blade made a screeching noise the second it was dragged on the ground. It was so loud, so earsplitting that it could make anyone’s ears bleed, but not hers. She probably didn’t even care at that point. It was all _numb._ Everything was _numb._

_She_ was numb.

Fissures; cracks crawled up from her fingertips, black as the stone of obsidian, and reaching all the way to the right side of her face. They stung with the ferocity of a thousand bee stings, but again, she probably didn’t care. She knew her dim-witted friend cared. He always did, much to her utter dismay… and annoyance. He always had a heart of gold that she didn’t bother to possess. Seeing her in this state of mind and state of being crushed him emotionally, but it never shattered his spirit. There was no moment of hesitation when the soles of his feet stomped on the scarred battlefield; just to see the usual misanthrope girl and maybe, _hopefully,_ help her.

His vocal cords stung when he screamed out her name, to which echoed among the field like the roar of a prehistoric creature; the kind that was wiped out a long, long time ago. Anyone knows that bonehead’s voice. Anyone can see that he’s a complete idiot for plunging himself into the fray and getting himself killed, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered to him was that his friend is safe and okay.

And that could have been the end of it. That could have been the end of the boy’s life. His friend could have easily swiped his head clean, and that would be his end. His friend would see him on the ground, groveling, sniffling until she wiped him out for good, but… that wasn’t the way she remembered it. That _wasn’t_ how it happened, unlike her twisted dreams. 

Those chubby hands of that dimwit tugged on her arms, nearly having his giant, bulbous nose touch her face, and if it wasn’t for the fact that her mind was in such disarray, she would have put a dent in his face and leave him with a fallen tooth. Tears were sitting on the borders of his beady eyes, and usually? She wouldn’t have cared. Usually, it wouldn’t be such a big deal to her, nor anyone for that matter. The boy’s sadness would be gone in a fraction of a second due to something else that’s on his mind, and that said sadness would have disappeared as if it never happened, but not this time.

Not this time.

“...lease… _stop!”_

His voice barely reached the girl’s ears. It was if the world surrounding her didn’t exist, but at the same time, it’s real, right in her face. It didn’t even occur to her that this idiot that she bossed around from since they were toddlers was right here; right where she’s standing and demanding her to stop. To let go of that scythe and to let go of it all to let this get over with. A part of her _would_ have considered, but another didn’t. It was like the scythe influenced her, but… could it just be the scythe? Or… could it have been _her_ that’s doing this all along?

It was a question that stuck to her mind while her companion embraced her the moment her legs gave out. While her other companion took the scythe out of her hand and placed a bony hand on her shoulder. Both of them continued to stare at her blank face. The same kind of face that would be forever scarred by that dreaded scythe. Though, that didn’t change the fact that her hands were filthy from blood.

It didn’t change the fact that she hurt them all. Each and every last one of them.

And in the middle of the invasion too. It was… something that she’ll never forget.

Something that she doubts she’ll _ever_ forget.

* * *

_ “...Mandy.” _

It was her name that brought her out of her trance. It was the waves crashing against the shore of Orchid Bay that helped her stare at reality once more. It was the looming, dark figure of death glancing at her, his bony face creased in concern. The same kind of expression that she hated to see. She hated to see someone that worried about her. She hated to see it because… what was there to be concerned about? What was there to be worried about?

What’s done was done. That was final.

“...What?” She cringed at the weakness of her voice. No matter how well she’s recovered, her voice was still soft, scratchy, and strained. It was the complete opposite of her smooth, dark, and calculative voice. Yet, at the same time, it was still apathetic and uncaring as ever. Or… as much as she possibly could manage that kind of tone.

“You’ve been starin’ at me scythe as if it’s gonna cut you wide open, girl. Now, don’t think you’ll be able to take it outta me grasp again.”

It was such a pointless warning in her eyes, but who was she to judge what the reaper’s words? After all, he held the scythe for who knows how long. She only had it for… for… huh. She can’t seem to recall how long has it been since she had it in her clutches. Since it… _corrupted_ her. And no matter how much she wanted to take it, to use it for her deepest, darkest desires, she was all too smart to fall into the same trap twice.

Her fingers traced the cracks that remained on her arm, containing raw flesh and who knows what else. It didn’t matter, she told herself. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But… why? Why couldn’t she stop _staring_ at it?

Why couldn’t she stop remembering the day she was finally free from that scythe?

The skeleton’s eyeless socklets continued to fix their gaze on her and before she knew it, the reaper touched her shoulder and knelt down to look into her black, usually soulless eyes. Mandy didn’t bother to let him see the true emotion behind her eyes. She couldn’t allow him to see such weakness. That weakness was a _burden._ Emotions were a burden and should be buried. 

Although, no matter how much they were buried, she knew her friend knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling… and she despised it.

“I know it’s been a while since it happened but… you and I _both_ know you’re still thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

And there it was. That thick accent further cementing the tension building up inside the blonde girl. The same kind of tension that could only be seen by Grim and Billy, but no one else. Not even Nigel could see it, despite knowing her quite well. It was something she would deny, but even if she did, she knew deep down that it wouldn’t change how they feel.

“That’s ridiculous.” Her arms were folded across her chest, and she bounced her knee a couple of times. “It’s all said and done, bonehead. I would suggest you should worry more about another fusion of yours prancing around than _that.”_

Of course, it had to resort to this. Where else would it resort to? It wouldn’t be any skin off of her nose if she were to tell Billy that, as he would have changed the subject to something more of the matter of getting Runty to befriend his fusion counterpart. But… not Grim. Grim was different. He _knew_ Mandy. He knew her like the back of his bony hand. He knew how this whole thing changed her and in a way he didn’t expect.

When he saw her return to Devil’s Bluff, she threatened to shake her hand and punch anyone who dared to speak of her scars. Whenever her experience of holding his scythe was mentioned, she spoke of tossing that person who dared to speak of it to the nearest fusion monsters and to have them maul that person alive. It was like she wanted to avoid the subject as much as possible and… frankly? He can’t say he blamed her.

The effects of holding his scythe weren’t kind to her. She spent days, weeks in the infirmary, sometimes having the struggle of staring into space or forgetting a number of things at times. She had moments where she thought she was still in Devil’s Bluff or when she was fighting against an army of fusions. She thought she could have fooled Grim, saying that she was dreaming or anything on the matter, but he was no blabbering, cheerful idiot.

He knew this whole dilemma bothered her, but he couldn’t keep silent about it. For _her_ sake.

“I would, but dat’s not why you’re here… isn’t it, child?”

It was then the child veered her gaze away from him, placing a palm on the side of her face: Her scarred side. She traced it up and down, and mustered out a heavy, deep sigh. The emotion behind it was unreadable, but only her friend knew the reason behind it. One of her fists started trembling like a broken car in the middle of an earthquake, but she kept her ground. 

She _had_ to.

_“No…”_ Her response was hollow, and yet she continued to keep it hidden under wraps. She can’t let him see her like this. She just couldn’t. “But do I need to tell _you_ that?”

It was kind of foreign to not hear a threat coming from her. Normally, a question like this would make her disassemble all of Grim’s bones and she would force him to reassemble himself without any assistance, but… it was absent here. It was like the reaper wasn’t staring at the cold, calculating girl that’s right beside him. Instead, he was staring at a _child._

A child that saw the repercussions of her actions and stared right at its face, no matter how much trauma it must have possibly been inflicted on her. It dreadfully worried him at best.

“No…” he echoed her after a sigh of his own, _“You wouldn’t.”_

Both of them focused their sight on the green dot that tainted the blue sky of the planet. That dot, that planet that started it all. If it wasn’t for Fuse invading the planet, none of this would have happened. None of it would have happened in the first place. Or, that’s what both of them wanted to believe. 

No matter if Fuse invaded or not, one thing was certain: Mandy snatching Grim’s scythe would have happened anyway. This would have happened no matter what her end goal was. And despite it transpiring mere weeks ago, it still frightened the reaper.

It still frightened him that his own scythe could do such an effect on a mortal. It was no wonder why a mortal shouldn’t have it in their possession. He warned his friend about it, but he knew she’s stubborn and refuses to give up.

If only she listened… if only she _realized_ what really could have happened to her.

Then this never would have happened.

The pale, dress-claded girl stepped up from her seat, placing her arms behind her back much like a general would in the military. Her hands, despite them jittering, had their fingers intertwined and clasped together, just so they could help stabilize all the brewing emotions swelling inside of her. Keeping her emotions intact would prevent any confrontation about them and would be able to keep her reputation from ever changing. She has to be known as the type of girl to scare people and not be scared. It was the way the world works. It’s the way _she_ works.

Without much thought, she nodded to the reaper and started to stroll away from him, much to his worry. She needed time to think and to not be interrogated by some bonesack. So, with one foot stomping forward, she trekked down the streets of the city. _Alone._

“See you around…”

She didn’t bother looking back. She didn’t bother waiting for another one of her friend’s warnings or questions. She had plenty of those on her plate. In fact, one of those warnings was still drilled inside of her head. It was the one that would send chills down her spine if she dared to acknowledge them.

_ “No mortal should possess me scythe, Mandy. Ya think it doesn’t affect ya, but it will. No mortal has gone long with it without losin’ their minds.” _

It was the one warning that echoed in her mind for the remainder of the day; forever embedded into it.

* * *

Once she returned back to Devil’s Bluff, she didn’t speak a single word to Hoss nor Hex, and it relieved her that neither of them would have the courage to speak up to her about this whole ordeal. It took less energy of hers to shoot shooting daggers at them for it.

It didn’t stop Billy from stumbling into her personal bubble, however. How he wanted to bring in recruits just so he could ask her if she’s okay, send her gift baskets every now and then to “cheer her up” and, heck, he even begged one recruit to drag her dog all the way here just so it can “comfort” her. All of those attempts brought up to the same result: It annoyed her.

And yet? She tolerated it. She tolerated all of those attempts, no matter how headache-inducing they might have been. Because, at the bottom of her heart, it meant to her that someone cared despite what happened. It meant to her that despite all of what she did and despite how she acted, someone out there still cares.

Even if that certain someone is a bumbling _idiot._

She huffed a deep sigh and prepared herself for yet another long, exhausting ritual of resting. She could have sacrificed her sleep just so she can deliver her missions much faster, but she knew that’s only prolonging the inevitable. She needed rest eventually, no matter how those dreams of hers aren’t the most pleasant in her eyes.

Another frustrated sigh, and before she knew it, everything went _black._

The last thing that was on her mind would be the dreaded question: What would happen if she were to hold onto that scythe for much longer? What would have happened to her then?

Hopefully, that would be something she wouldn’t have to worry about, not that she was ever the type to worry in the first place.

And yet, somehow, someway, a certain fusion counterpart of hers would think of the same thing… only, if it was in the said fusion’s possession.

But that couldn’t possibly happen…

_ Right? _


End file.
